Hidden Trusts
by silversatyr
Summary: Alright, I know, you all thought I was dead. Well, here's a nice, quiet scene...NOT!
1. Potions Class

Disclaimer: NOT MINE

***

It seemed to Harry that every potions lesson was a disaster. This time it was Malfoy who covered the class in the disgusting brown liquid that had spewed forth from his failed Disassociation Potion. Hermione glared in his direction as she used her fingers to comb the sticky mess from her shortened hair. It had been cut over the summer. Ron groaned under his breath, muttering unflattering phrases about their new teacher. Harry stared into his own potion glumly. Paired with Neville for the lesson, they had actually managed to create the perfect potion. To tell the truth, Neville had been doing well in potions since Professor Snape had disappeared. He had confided in Harry that he no longer felt as though a Dementor crowded over him. Harry had agreed. 

It would have been perfect if … 

If only their substitute teacher weren't Professor Bile. Only Professor Bile could allow the chaos that now raged in the classroom to occur. Her idea of teaching was to give them the ingredients, show them a page and leave them to their own experimentations. Left unsupervised the first couple of times; the Slytherins pranked the Gryffindors and vice-versa. Now, after almost three months of pranks and mishaps, both houses were getting fed up with the tricks and had called a temporary truce. It still didn't stop accidents such as Malfoy's from happening and the students, both Gryffindor and Slytherin, were about to call it quits. 

"I can't take this anymore!" Hermione wailed as she stood by the sink, furiously scrubbing at the grubby cauldron in front of her. Harry stood next to her, holding Neville's cauldron firmly under the freezing water as his partner scrubbed it clean. Ron had finished with his and was helping Lavender. Malfoy stood next in line, waiting with barely suppressed impatience for Hermione to finish. The strain from keeping the truce was beginning to show on his delicate features. Harry absently wondered if he knew that his hair was covered in filthy brown muck.

"Don't worry, Hermione." Lavender cooed, "I'm sure Professor Bile won't be here much longer. I heard that Professor Dumbledore is close to finding Snape." Neville shuddered, muttering under his breath as he started to rinse his cauldron off. Harry glanced at Malfoy, who was staring at the wall. 

"They'll never find him." He declared blankly, and the classroom hushed, intent on what he had to say. If Malfoy noticed, he didn't let it disturb him. "Never. I know. When Voldemort wants something hidden, it stays hidden." Nervous glances were being thrown around the room. The stories about Voldemort's hatred of Snape were – now - legendary. Everyone in the school knew of Snape's betrayal and his sudden disappearance. Malfoy had told everyone about that hatred. Harry shivered to remember that night. Hermione glanced at him, trying to continue washing at the same time. Ron's back was turned from Harry, but he could still see it stiffen in shock. The other Gryffindors remained silent. They, too, remembered the night their Potions Master disappeared. The night Malfoy was rescued, found by Harry in a corner of Myrtle's bathroom. 

They didn't care to remind Malfoy, his temper shorter than ever nowadays. 

***

A/N: Hey, enjoy!

= ~ P

~LIB


	2. Late-night Thoughts

DIS: Uhhhmm … not mine … although … I wish … ***SOB***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dumbledore sat in his office, idly watching the odds and ends he'd collected from time to time. The room was warm, combining both the heat of the fire and that of his phoenix, Fawkes. Light, filtering in from the small window, bounced around, creating a radiant and bubbly atmosphere. All in all, a room that screamed comfort and reassurance. Safety.

If only …

Gazing into the fire, he allowed memories to wash over him, take control of his mind, and twist his perceptions. 

***

It had been a trying night; four attacks on Muggle-born officials successfully thwarted. Severus sat in the corner, letting the shadows hide him, creating shadows within shadows. Dumbledore, pouring himself a cup of tea, mused at how like the shadows his Potion Master was. Hiding, fleeing from the light, yet a part of it anyway. He smiled as he turned towards the reclusive man, knowing the answer to the question about to be asked, yet unable to resist.

"Ah, Severus" he sighed, his voice deep and comforting, "Would you care for a Lemon Drop? I'm rather fond of them, as you well know and …" He left the rest unsaid, knowing that the man before him knew what he would say. A ritual, played every night since their first meeting. Things often went unsaid between them. Old friends, knowing the other as well, maybe better, than themselves. Time seemed to do that to people.

"Albus" The word spoken, curt yet polite, echoed in the older man's memory, playing in its fields. It wasn't the word that caused the effect, but the way it was spoken. Softly, imbedded with a deep trust. 

The night replayed again, revolving around that one word. The only one making any sense on that disastrous night. The only one to be remembered when the memory of that night could no longer be. It was real, but seemed so imaginary.

Sighing, Albus Dumbledore rolled his shoulders and readied himself for bed. 'It always feels that way when you lose a friend.'

Fawkes, sensing melancholy, crooned gently in his sleep. 

His master had already left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Okay, I'm gonna be pushy and say … I WANT REVIEWS AND I WANT THEM YESTERDAY!

Okay … enough Pushy!Me

Oh please, I beg humbly oh great and noble reader, please review me, I shall be ever so joyful and  … Shepard's Staff exit

Ummm, how did Humble!Me get into the studio?

Okay, enough groveling. If I don't get any reviews I'm gonna get this here spoon and shove it fair up your … LA LA LA LA CAN'T HEAR YOU LA LA LA NOT LISTENING LA LA LA     **BANG   **La la ..la.l…a..a…

Security! Get these hooligans out of here!

Eh … sorry about that folks, F#$&!ME and Innocent!Me somehow …. Ewww … what is that? What? Innocent!Me? Ouch. That HAD to hurt.        grimace   oooooh …

AHEM … oooh … OH, yeah, the cameras still rolling. What? Live? Ya gotta be kidding … Ah, never mind.

Well, see you next chappie

LUV

~ !Me


	3. Missing

DISCLAIMER:    If I owned this, I would be in my Jaguar, scaring the cops and … Well, I don't own it, okay?   Good!

***

Hermione watched as the rain beat against the windows. Usually she would be studying hard, nose tracing words as they ran across a page, but today was different. Today, she was thinking. The rain matched her mood, a miserable feeling that ruined her ability to study. She turned to watch Ron and Harry playing snap. They laid the cards down slowly, missing opportunities to snap the cards, as lost in thought and memories as the rest of Hogwarts. 

She sighed heavily. Four more students lost to Voldemort. Neville, killed while visiting his parents, survived by his grandmother and uncle. Pansy, defecting to Voldemort, following in her parents' footsteps. Padma Patil, disappearing without a trace, only Parvati left of the whole family. And Fleur Delacour, believed dead. 

"Fleur…" Hermione thought, remembering the odd friendship struck up between them when the part-Veela student had exchanged to Hogwarts in the middle of Semester. Placed in Hufflepuff, she and Hermione had met in the library while looking for the same book. From then onwards, she became a part of the gang, much to Ron's horror and delight, sharing in the mysteries and danger during the last six months. Now she was missing, gone without a trace. 

Trying to focus on the windowsill to hold back the tears, she didn't see Ginny come up behind her, nearly jumping out of her skin when she was enfolded in a caring hug. Ginny, now in the fifth year, was Harry's girl. She'd worked hard to get his attention, finally having it pay off when the Halloween Masked Ball arrived and he'd asked her to go steady. Since then, they were always together. Another addition to the gang. 

"It's okay, Hermione." Ginny's soft voice was pitched so only she and Hermoine could hear. "I know you miss them. So do I."  Ginny's voice was laden with unshed tears and Hermione smiled weakly. She hadn't spoken since the news of Neville's death and Fleur's disappearance. She and Neville had been close, not as close as she and Harry and Ron, but close all the same. And Fleur …

***

Draco's thoughts wandered again. It was dark outside, dark inside, and darker inside his soul. His usually light hair was also dark, plastered to his head as the rain poured down, soaking his robes through. He didn't really notice the cold anymore; he was beyond that. He could feel the fury welling up inside again, but knew that he would just let it go when the time came. He couldn't be angry with her. He'd known how shallow she was, had chosen her for that very reason. It was he being played this time, that was all. It had been his choice after all.

The rain beat harder on his skin, stinging when it hit. The robes offered little protection. They never had.

He enjoyed this place, at the top of the Astronomy tower. It was quiet and hard to reach, the perfect place to lose his clumsy goons. Not that they were there to lose anymore. When he had betrayed Voldemort, his father withdrew his protection. Crabbe and Goyle no longer graced the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. 

A slight smile played across Draco's pale face, bitter for all the memories of his life. His mother's death had paid a heavy toll on the young man, his skin ashen, pallid, and unhealthy. Painful wounds healed over to create puckered scars that ran across his palms, down his arms, over shoulders, joining at a V-shape on his back. 

No longer a child, not yet a man, yet living through a pain that would scar him for life. Both inside and out. Pansy's betrayal, his mother's death, Snape's disappearance. Voldemort's rise to power, taking over the Ministry from within, marked the Wizarding world. It would not be long before the Muggles would notice, before the last pockets of resistance fell. Before the end. 

A shiver ran down his scarred spine, it was not a night to think of such things. All he could do was plod along as well as he could, help where it was needed and be there for Harry when the time came. For now, it would be enough to get inside and out of the rain.

Shaking his head free of thought, Draco Malfoy climbed down from his perch, swinging on the ledge to land safely in the tower. Looking up, he studied the picture on the wall opposite him. Professor Trelawny's last prediction before the Killing Curse claimed her life. Voldemort's words echoed in his head …

***

"Her predictions are far too dangerous a tool for their side to allow her to live. I want her dead…" Softly spoken, yet with a power so great as to make the circle of followers shiver with fear. Draco, garbed in the black cloak of a Deatheater, shuddered in fear. Fear of his father, fear of Voldemort, fear of the powers fighting for control of the world. He'd made his decision, the best that he could. Never again would he watch as a child was cut down before him, stripped of her life before it began. Angry at his cowardice, he clenched his fingers, creating fists beneath the long cloak. Tonight he would begin to repay the world for his ignorance. Tonight he would save a life …

***

His first meeting as a spy for Dumbledore turned out to be his last. Fleeing with the news of the impending death to the Headmaster, he was caught. Voldemort did not suffer traitors kindly. 

Too late his escape. Too late his recovery. His mother, murdered by his father as an act of loyalty, his Divination teacher, murdered by Argus Filch. At least Filch had been caught. But his father …

***

A/N: Okay … I've finished this chappie and it took AGES! So please, show your gratitude by  …….  Reviewing …

I hate to beg … but … well …Ahhhh …  don't worry about it!

If you want to review me, then do. If not, don't worry about it; I know how hard it is to say the right thing after reading something. It's damn hard to give feedback, but without it, you never know whether you're doing the right thing or not. So, if you feel the need, do so. 

Any suggestions will be welcomed, and I don't have a beta reader as yet, so if anyone … well … you know where to find me …

Yours Faithfully,

~LIBERTY

PS … Thanks to all you kind people who have reviewed (namely … the ONE person who reviewed).

 Really, people like you make writing well worth the effort.


	4. Darkest in the Morning

Disclaimer: I don't own it so don't sue me

^_^ I ^ o ^ I ^ . ^ I ^ v ^ I ^ ~ ^ I ^`_'^ I

'Dark. Light. Where am I? I don't… Potter? Where…? Who…am I? Potter? I… I… Harry Potter… James? Who are… are… you?'

The sound of water dripping. A scent of musty paper. A wet patch under an outstretched arm. A gasp of shocked recognition, then unconsciousness once more. A last word slips from parched lips.

"Voldemort…"

***

It was sunny when Draco awoke. The curtains around his bed were flung back, allowing a generous amount of sunlight to spill across his delicate features. The storm had taken three days to blow over and spring seemed to delight in the show of sun and blue skies.

Rolling to his side, Draco wondered what time it was. He often slept in on the weekends, pondering sums and equations from his last class on Fridays. Such a sunny Saturday morning just begged to be exploited, yet he remained under his blankets. 

Memory flowed through his mind, hard to grasp, to remember. There was a dark place, a person, a word. What had it been? A name. Frowning with concentration, he tried to trap the memory. Familiar, the name was familiar, on the tip of his tongue.  Voldemort?

Shuddering in spite of the warmth around him, Draco found that the dream was gone. It was no good, he remembered no more. Shaking his head, he glanced at the mirror beside his bed. 

"Ugh, bed hair." He groaned as he captured his mirrored gaze. Blonde hair, falling about his ears, had dried and gone stiff during the night, creating a teased effect. Grey-blue eyes wrinkled as fair eyebrows drew down, frowning at the face in the mirror. The same face, paler than usual, mimicked the action, scowling at its counterpart in the real world. 

"Draco!" The shout knocked him back into reality. It was a high-pitched, female voice. Too high-pitched for the morning, Draco thought. Willing himself out of bed, he grabbed the previous nights clothes, still damp from his 'escape' to the Astronomy tower. 

"Draco Maaalfoooooy!" Again, the banshee-like voice pierced the still air. Ignoring the shrill wail, Draco dressed, taking his time. Tossing his pajamas on the unmade bed, he drew back the curtain to take in the disheveled room beyond. It seemed that the rest of the Slytherin sixth-year boys had left earlier. 

Shrugging to himself, Draco leant on the windowsill, surveying the land laid before him. After Slytherin house's Head had gone missing, they were handed over to Magenta Bile, the new Potion's Mistress. Complaining of cold dungeons, she'd had the whole house moved to one of the spare towers. The students found it hard to adjust at first, but soon enjoyed the warmth of the new tower rooms.

From where he stood, Draco could see the Forbidden Forest, the Lake and the Quidditch Pitch. It was a beautiful view, the sun casting a glow to all it touched. Sighing heavily, the teen turned away. The only downside to the whole tower-thing was that I f… no, when … when Severus Snape came back … they would have to move back to the dungeons. It wouldn't last. Nothing ever did …

Dragged back to reality for the second time that day, Draco eyed the door warily. He could have sworn that he'd heard a knock. It was with trepidation that he reached for the handle.

'If it's HER, I swear, I'm gonna jump out the window. I swear it!'

***

A/N: I know, I know …  a short chapter, but it's still a chapter, so enjoy! 

^_^

Thanks for the one kind review I've collected. I'd give you a mention, but while I'm writing this I'm nowhere near the web and I can't 'member your name, so, a big 

THANX 

And all…  and SORRY for not 'membering your name, I'll get it next time 'kay?

'KAY!

And if anyone else wants to see their identity in print, send a review and I'll give you a really big thanks!

Okay, luv ya, bye-bye

~LIB


	5. Savior?

Tania stared at the door handle in her hand. It seemed strange that life seemed to keep going on, despite all the pain and horror that had been inflicted on the world. It amazed her that the world didn't stop to catch its breath. It just kept on going, like the teachers and students. 'Keep moving and maybe you'll get through it.' It should really become Hogwart's new motto, she mused.

Turning the handle slightly, she rattled it, letting the occupant of the room know she was there. He was lucky that Tania had come to get him. She had intercepted Melissa on the way up, diverting her with tales of her boyfriend's flirtations. If two people ever deserved each other it was Melissa Bandy and Cray Hunt; what with Melissa's attempts to get Malfoy and Cray's flirting with the third-graders.

The door sprang open, surprising Tania out of her thoughts and back into reality. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, silver-blonde hair falling about his pale face. He seemed relieved as he took in her face, sighing slightly. She smiled brightly, understanding the reason behind the relief. If she'd had Melissa after her, she'd be worried too. 

"Hey, don't look so worried, Malfoy, Melissa's checking on her boyfriend. It seems she heard a rumor about some extra-curricular activities going on with a certain third-grader and she decided to… discover just what those activities were. I'd say she'll be out of your hair for a few hours." Tania grinned widely, trying to lend some of her cheerfulness to the solemn-faced teen before her. 

"You are a life-saver, Tania. An absolute angel." He smiled back, forced to reply her cheerfulness with some of his own. It was fake, a farce, not really there. Tania had seen the same forced smiles on the teacher's faces, on the Headmaster's face. Most faces wore such looks nowadays. There was nothing to really smile at, just the feeling of obligation. That one must smile in order to make it all better.

Aware of the silence between them, Tania turned away and began walking down the stairs. She left him where he stood, a silhouette in the doorway. She had breakfast and classes, and she didn't know what else to say or do. 

***

Hermione watched Professor Flitwick's demonstration in silence. Feathers floated around the classroom, following the directions the Professor put on them. The younger pupils seemed to forget their ills as they watched in amazement. She envied them that ability; for her, the memories always remained.

 Harry and Ron chatted together, trying to find an interesting way to teach the first-years some spells. Their mid-year projects were to be teachers. To take an element from each of their current classes and teach some of the younger pupils for a class. 

Harry and Ron liked the idea and had announced their intentions of becoming teachers after school. The Professors shuddered when they heard of the declaration, hoping against hope that their brief experience with the younger pupils would change their minds. 

Looking up, Hermione caught Malfoy's eye. He looked at her, nodded once, then looked away. Shaking her head, she remembered what a total jerk he had been during the first five years at Hogwarts. To say that the current situation had changed him was an understatement.

Sighing deeply, Hermione took out some of her overdue homework. It was becoming commonplace for Hermione to neglect her studies, focusing instead on the memories that haunted her everyday.

 Not that it really mattered. The only class that she hadn't already passed was Potions, and that was in no way due to lack of trying. Really, the homework she had been neglecting was just that, HOME WORK. Extra information to cram her brain with, hoping that she could forget her meeting with the Dark Lord, and the pain that had ensued…

***

Dark. Lightning forked across the sky above at irregular intervals. Despite that, it was dark. 

He was also dark. A figure, standing against the skyline, only seen in a flash of blinding light; then disappearing, melting into the night.

She watched in awe as he vanished. Her pupils dilated, trying to find him in the black night beyond. Anxious to keep track of his movement. 

She was afraid, very afraid; yet, it seemed as though she was invincible, invisible. Safe from his wrath.

How wrong she was…

***

A/N: It's a short chappie, and if ya don't understand anything, review me. I'll be happy to straighten things out.

Hey, I know it's sort of slow moving, but it'll get better soon…

~Liberty


	6. Madness

Disc: I only WISHED that I owned this book..  
  
A/N: It's up the top this time, 'cause I feel the need to explain about this story. It (the story, duh!) shows bits and pieces of different parts, explaining bits of the story, but allowing your imagination to fill in the gaps. So, if y'all want a challenge, 'mail me and I'll give you permission to take the general idea and . make it more.  
  
If you want to know why I'm doing this. well, I get little spurts of imag. at times and I have to hurry to get it down, so it's so short and if I had to do a full story, y'd all be waiting for.uh. ever.  
  
Enough o' that. on to the good stuff.  
  
***  
  
Tom Riddle, formally of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, strode furiously back and forth. He no longer resembled the ruggedly handsome youngster he had once been. No longer carried his father's name. No longer carried his past.  
  
No.  
  
Lord Voldemort did not hold onto the past.  
  
Well, not often.  
  
Harry Potter.  
  
Severus Snape.  
  
Albus Dumbledore.  
  
The only pieces of his past that he would not allow himself to forget. One a mere child; revenge would be sweet. The second a traitor; not a quick death for the betrayer of a trust. The third. the bane of his existence, his mortal enemy. His time would come. Not yet, but it would come.  
  
A snarl erupted from stretched lips, grotesque no matter the light. Snake's eyes gleamed menacingly. It had been over an hour since Wormtail had left. An hour. Growls from a silken throat, a voice used to deception. It was no wonder many lost their souls. A voice that could charm a snake. Snake charmer. His cousin's pet name before.  
  
The creak of a door; shuffled footsteps across dusty floor stones. A muted whimper. These things marked the arrival of one very late servant.  
  
Tom Riddle, formally of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, smiled, knowing that he was one step closer.  
  
***  
  
Harry watched the sun going down through the widows of the tower room. Across the fields, he could see Hagrid, bending on one knee to pat Fang's mangy fur. Large shadows cast across the green lawn. A man and his dog.  
  
Smiling, Harry turned away from the scene, catching the roughly thrown pillow before it hit him. Ron, sitting on his scarlet and gold bed, grinned impishly at him. Grinning to match, Harry slumped on the bed.  
  
" You know Hermione is waiting for us, don't you?" Ron's voice sang off the walls, echoing around the room. Apart from the beds, the room was empty. As prefects, Harry and Ron had been allowed their own room, instead, preferring to share. As yet, they hadn't decorated. Harry hoped it wouldn't get too orange too soon.  
  
Sighing, Harry leaned over the edge, pulled up another pillow that rested on the floor and frowned slightly. "Do you think she'll talk soon? I just can't get used to this silence between us."  
  
Ron frowned; Harry hoped he wasn't about to start his famous lecture on the importance of 'getting over it' again, when a light knock on the door interrupted them.  
  
" Harry? Ron? Are you there?" the soft voice belonged to the youngest Weasley, Ginny. " Hey, hurry up! Hermione and I are tired of waiting for you! Lavender and the others have already left for dinner and I'm starving."  
  
Silence from without as the boys looked at each other and grinned. "HEY! Come on! Hermione wants to eat too, you know!" The growl was enough to get them moving and they swung the door open to see their best friend leaning against the doorframe, Ginny nearby.  
  
"Gee, took you long enough." She growled before racing down the steps. Harry and Ron shrugged and followed her down, Hermione close behind. It seemed much the same as ever, except it wasn't.  
  
Harry hoped that things would change.  
  
***  
  
Dark.  
  
It was dark again. Like before. Like his quarters in the dungeons. They weren't much, but he hoped he'd see them again. Not that he was one to hold on to hopes. No, wishful thinking was not going to save him this time.  
  
Water dripped. And dripped. Dripped, drip, drip, drip.  
  
He'd read somewhere that dripping water could make you go mad. He could prove it, if given the chance.  
  
"Oh, excuse me, Master, I'm afraid I have a scientific theory to back up, so if you don't mind."  
  
Not bloody likely.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drip.  
  
"Auuuuuurgh! Curse it! I can't take it anymore!"  
  
Drip.  
  
  
  
Tearing off a strip of his battered cloak, he felt his way to the maddening source of noise and plugged it up.  
  
Better silence than that constant dripping.  
  
Leaning against a cold wall, concrete by the feel of it, he sighed.  
  
All he could do was wait and, dare he think it, hope.  
  
Not much use, but there was little else for him to do. His legs lay sprawled before him, as unfeeling as when first they were crippled.  
  
Nothing else to do but hope. 


	7. Flies swiflty does Death

Hermione sat by the lake, watching Harry and Ron swimming. They bobbed up and down in the water, like blobs of pink Gloop in a sea of blue Plobble. Ron's red head vanished for a moment, reappearing near Lavender and Pavarti, who sun baked on the shore.  
  
It was supposedly a Hogsmead Weekend, but while the majority of the school sped through Zonko's and ., most of the Gryffindor sixth years were enjoying the silence and desertion of the castle.  
  
Hermione preferred to sit near the lake and watch than to actually take part in the swimming. Turning back to her diary, she wrote her final entry.  
  
----------  
  
Lucius watched the school from the shelter of the forest, aware of the various Goblins and Trolls arranged at strategic intervals throughout the trees behind him. They waited for his signal before marching out to take over the last pocket of resistance.  
  
----------  
  
Fang was the first to fall. Teeth clamped in the rear of one particularly ugly troll, he couldn't let go in time to save himself from a Goblin's axe blow through the middle. Cleaved nearly in two, the valiant canine held true to his intended victim, having had practice on various rock cakes and homemade toffee.  
  
Lucius watched as gleefully as his pride would allow, meaning that he allowed a half-smile to briefly appear on his Adonis-tic face. Teachers, unprepared for such a full-scale attack, fought as best they could. It was too much to hope they would get out alive.  
  
His half-smiled became a smirk.  
  
----------  
  
Minerva McGonagal, deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration teacher, watched in horror as students were hewn down in front of her. Blood flowed freely on the floors of Hogwarts. Students, panicking and trying to escape, slipped on their classmate's blood.  
  
Taking a third year student by the arm, she directed her towards the dungeon stairwell. A quick prayer of thanks for the Prefects and Heads of Houses for their quick thinking was all she could manage as she directed still more students out of harms club-range.  
  
She wondered briefly how many of them would get out of this alive.  
  
---------  
  
Hermione glanced up as a shadow blocked the sun. She saw the axe a moment before it hit, allowing surprise to be the last expression on her face.  
  
-------  
  
"HERMIONE! Noooooooooooo!" Harry swung around at Ron's scream in time to see the killing blow. He was aware of more screaming, unaware, however, that it was his own.  
  
--------  
  
Dumbledore stole through the dungeon, lighting lanterns with the flick of his wand. Students followed in a strange silence, broken occasionally by sobs and soft sniffles. The school had taken a heavy loss that morning, losing two-thirds of the school population.  
  
At around lunchtime he had heard from a couple of the Hogsmead survivors. The tiny Wizarding village was destroyed; with it the majority of the younger pupils. With a heavy heart, he led the way, deeper than any of the students had ever been. Harry was a step behind him. 


End file.
